


Colonel Sandor

by mynameisnoneya



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Restaurant, Awkward Sexual Situations, F/M, Fast Food, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Meat Eaters, Sexual Humor, Simulated Blow Job, Vegetarians & Vegans
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-20
Updated: 2017-05-20
Packaged: 2018-11-02 18:51:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,579
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10950606
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mynameisnoneya/pseuds/mynameisnoneya
Summary: Sansa Stark loves her boyfriend, Sandor Clegane, even though she is a vegetarian and he is a die-hard meat eater.  When Sandor taunts her while dining at his favorite chicken fast-food restaurant, Sansa decides to fight back in a creative yet highly-effective fashion.





	Colonel Sandor

**Author's Note:**

> This story was inspired by AdultOrphan, who made a comment on one of my other fics-in-progress, _Getting the Band Together,_ that Sandor could be bribed for chicken. That little nugget sent my brain down this pathway...what could possibly come between the man and his dinner? 
> 
> I hope that you get a laugh out of this short, silly ball of fluffiness!
> 
> Please note that I made sure to tag any and all characters that appear in this work, whether they have a speaking role or not. 
> 
> General disclaimer: GoT characters and quotes belong to GRMM - I own nor claim nothing!
> 
> If you enjoyed this work, please let me know by leaving comments and kudos!

“What’s the matter, little bird?” Sandor chuckled as he snagged a chicken leg from the bucket poised in the center of the restaurant table, “Too uppity to indulge in a little common-man fare?”

“Ha-ha, 'Colonel Sandor,' very funny," Sansa huffed, rolling her sky-blue eyes in disgust as Sandor viciously chomped down on the beginning of his dinner, “I’m not too ‘uppity’ to eat fried chicken.  I’m just too uppity to eat _this_ fried chicken, thank you very much.”

Rolling around his half-masticated food, Sandor’s bright gray eyes lit up with merriment, “It’s just chicken.”

“No, it’s not just chicken,” Sansa sniffed, folding her arms in front of her ample bosom, leaning back into the booth seat of the smelly, greasy fast-food joint Sandor had demanded that they select tonight for their meal, “This place is funded off the backs of factory-farmed chickens.  Seriously, Sandor, have you not watched the documentaries I’ve shown you?  How can you sit there and eat that knowing how much the poor animal suffered?”

“The chicken was going to die anyway,” Sandor commented as he wiped the drippings left behind on his beard with a way-too-thin paper napkin from the dispenser on the table, “I can’t see why you get all worked up about a chicken.”

“If you’re going to consume chicken, then would you please do me a favor?” Sansa grimaced as Sandor dove in for another piece of deep-fried poultry carcass, “Could you at _least_ buy only free-range, grain fed chickens who were allowed to experience the outdoors and exhibit natural behaviors before they were executed?”

With his one eyebrow locked and loaded, Sandor simply stared at her, silent as stone, as he bit into a juicy thigh.

“What?” she asked, her ginger eyebrows knitting together in confusion.

“It’s a chicken, Sansa.”

“So?”

“You don’t ‘execute’ a chicken.”

“They absolutely do!  They truss them up and then electrocute - ”

“Sansa,” Sandor sighed heavily as he laid down his half-eaten piece of bird on his plastic black divided plate, flopping back against the booth while shaking his head in disbelief, “I know you’re a vegetarian.  Hell, I even support your decision.  But for fuck’s sake, you _knew_ I was a meat eater when we started dating, and that was over a year ago.  I told you once; I’ve told you twice.  I.  Like.  Meat.  And I’m not about to join you in your quest to save the planet or whatever the hell it is that motivates you to suck down pounds of broccoli every week.”

Highly irritated yet painfully hungry, Sansa drew a long, deep breath as she gazed upon the red and white paper bucket brimming full of dead animal that was sitting between her and her boyfriend.  Hearing Sandor’s direct-as-usual soliloquy made her feel like a first-class bitch.  He was right.  Sandor was something of an open book, really.  A true what-you-see-is-what-you-get sort of man.  He had never lied to her, and he had never expected her to change for him.  Why couldn’t she just let it go for once?

“I’m sorry, sweetie,” Sansa smiled feebly as she sighed, “You’re right.  I’ll shut up and let you eat your dinner.”

“Thank you,” Sandor replied, his enormous hand reaching toward the sundry styrofoam tubs of various sides he had purchased, “Speaking of dinner, why don’t you eat the veggies I bought for you?”  Slowly sliding the vat of instant starch smothered in a thick, brown goo along with the overcooked ears of corn and oleaginous green beans, Sandor grinned at Sansa, knowing that he would never win her over to the dark side but hoping that she would at least agree to disagree on the matter.  He had been so pleased with himself when he stood at the counter, grilling the poor pimply teenager about their selections for a vegetarian, pressing the undertrained and underpaid staff member to find out from his manager if any scrap of meat had touched their vegetable options.

Without further ado, Sansa decided to try to keep her trap closed and to try not to nip at Sandor’s oversized heels as usual when it came to food.  Giving him a huge, slightly fake grin in return, she grabbed her plastic spork and dipped it into the green beans, praying to all the gods that the grease floating on top of the small tub wouldn’t hit her stomach like a load of bricks. 

“Well, here goes nothing!” she playfully exclaimed as she raised the spork.  As Sansa inserted the gob of veggies into her mouth, willing herself to chew them even though they tasted like mush, her boyfriend decided at the most inopportune moment in the history of their relationship to goad her.

“You know, all of this talk has made me thirsty,” Sandor taunted with a devious smirk as he picked up his cola, pausing briefly to take a sip before sitting the ginormous cup back on the table, “And hungry.  I may have to eat every fucking chicken in the restaurant.”  With that salvo, he lifted the chicken thigh resting on his plate to his mouth, taking an enormous, self-satisfied bite.

Oh, that did it.  Game on, big boy.

Swallowing her bite of alleged green beans while locking eyes with her smug-as-fuck boyfriend, Sansa opted to retaliate.  Time to fight fire with fire.  OK, maybe not fire since Sandor was deathly afraid of it, but that was beside the point.  She was determined to get his goat…actually, come to think of it, she wanted to corral the whole damn herd while she was at it.  He wanted to shoot snark?  Well, Sansa wasn’t going to go down that easily.  And speaking of going down, Sandor picked the wrong vegetarian to tease tonight, folks.

Dipping her well-manicured index finger into the small tub of rehydrated mashed potatoes and canned gravy, Sansa swirled it around a couple of times for good measure before lifting her finger to her lips.  While parting them slowly, she darted her tongue out to lick the brownish paste from her fingertip before sticking her finger all the way into her mouth, sucking on it, bobbing her head up and down a few times before pulling off said finger with a wet, highly-audible pop.

“Mmm…” Sansa moaned provocatively, shutting her eyes as she ran said tongue along her bottom lip, “That’s _so_ good.”  When she opened her eyes, Sandor’s steely eyes had widened comically, his hands clutching his half-eaten chicken thigh while paused in mid-air, his mouth gaping like a surprised fish.

Knowing that she had his full attention now, Sansa went in for the kill.  She grabbed one of the tiny ears of overly-buttered corn with both hands, raising it to her lips while looking at Sandor with hooded eyes.  Not uttering a word, she darted out her tongue, swirling the tip on the side of the oily corn cob, flicking her tongue before dragging it sideways along the length of the kernels.  Then, deciding to give Sandor the full effect, she turned the corn cob upside down, grasping it in her right hand, and proceeded to go down on the unsuspecting ear of corn right there in the middle of the slightly crowded restaurant. 

“What…” Sandor squeaked, unable to form a coherent sentence at the moment.  He finally sat down his piece of chicken.

“Hmm?” she mumbled while blowing the corn like a porn star.

“What in the hell do you think you’re doing?” he rasped, his voice low and raw as he watched her hollow out her cheeks.

Pulling off the corn cob, the juices running down her pale chin, Sansa swiped her face with the back of her hand before scrubbing both hands clean with a fistful of napkins, “I’m just enjoying my dinner.”

And without further ado, Sansa decided to pull out all the stops on the free show she was giving not only Sandor and the young employee staring at her from behind the register but also the three college-age guys sitting in the booth behind them as well as the single dad sitting at a table next to them as he dined in the chicken joint tonight with his unsuspecting elementary school-age daughter.  With all eyes of the people inside the establishment on her (except the little girl, thankfully), Sansa stabbed another sporkful of overdone green beans, engulfing them with a sensual groan of ecstasy.  Resting the dining implement on the table once again, she raised her dainty hands to her long, fiery mane, stuffing both into her curly locks, shutting her eyes as she writhed and purred in her seat at the booth, all the while making a litany of obscene, erection-inducing sounds.

“Bloody, buggering hell…” Sandor gurgled, his massive chest heaving at the glorious, sinful scene unfolding before him, “Get your ass in the truck.  _Now.”_

“But Sandor, darling,” Sansa responded, feigning total ignorance of just how damn horny she was making her boyfriend at present thanks to her AVN-worthy performance, “Don’t you want to eat your chicken?”

“Fuck the chicken,” he growled, trying to adjust himself under the table before rising to his feet, “You win.”  Reaching down to grab her wrist, Sandor tugged her out of the booth, yanking her flush against his body as they stood in the middle of the restaurant.  Barely grinding his rock-hard, jeans-clad stiffy against her stomach, he smirked lasciviously down into her utterly pleased face, “Satisfied?”

“Not yet,” Sansa winked, “But I have a feeling I will be.”

**Author's Note:**

> I'm betting the rest of Sansa and Sandor's night turned out to be finger licking good, wouldn't you agree?
> 
> And for those of you who have no idea what AVN stand for, it's Adult Video News. They have an annual award event for adult film stars. It's like the Oscars for porn. Don't ask me why I know this, OK? (Wink).


End file.
